Showing posts with label New Year. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Year. Show all posts

Sunday, 31 December 2017

Pearl - Day 32 (New Year's Day)

Day 32 (Monday 1st January, New Year's Day 2018)
32 years ago, on 1st January 1986, Spain and Portugal joined the European Community.
The UK had joined on 1st January 1973. 
Portugal operates an hour behind Spain
and hence this region is one of the easiest locations where you can celebrate the start of the
New Year twice - commence by partying in 
Badajoz’s Plaza Espana (a pretty gem of a town in Spain),
before grabbing a taxi for the 20 minute drive, 9 mile journey, to the charming town
of Elvas in Portugal (shown in the above picture) to greet the New Year in all over again.
Happy New Year! I wish you a wonderful 2018 full of love, good health, happy times and meaningful moments to treasure. I look forward to sharing bits of it with you.

I can think of no better way of starting the New Year than by reading a post from Neil UsherI first got to know Neil when he was the Workplace Director at Sky - he was one of the truly innovative property and facilities experts who understood the impact that the workplace has on work, the people within it and the wider environment. Neil took the brave step to become a freelance specialist just over six months ago, which has also enabled him to find the time to write a book due to be published in March. If you wish to know more about Neil's thoughts on work and workplace design, you can find him on Twitter (his handle is @workessence) or better still, read his blog: workessence.

To me, the Advent Blog series would be diminished if there was no creative piece from Neil within it - he is an exceptionally talented writer. It has been a long standing tradition in northern hemisphere cultures to tell stories to brighten dark winter days and I see Neil's tales as a perpetuation of this custom. To maintain the flow, there are no punctuating illustrations. 

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Pearl was afraid of the dark.
At least that’s what she told her parents.
They gently questioned and wove a scaffold of fine thread into her curiosity to help her through the nights that could seem interminably long. At this time of year, the excitement added another dimension: keeping her awake, when she wanted to slip past the darkness, unaware and relieved.
Her magenta-washed room was dotted with pins of light – those that stayed on, those that sensed when they needed to be on. Until one evening when the entire neighbourhood was softly sunk into pitch, unannounced. Pearl was deeply submerged in sleep at the time the clocks stopped, but something stirred on the seabed and she began the long ascent to the surface.
When she awoke, her eyes flickered, there was no difference. She blinked, rubbed her eyes and opened them like saucers. It was as though she were staring into the back of her eyelids. She could feel her skin warming, her forehead moistening. This was not right. Her pathway was gone. She was lost in a space where she was safest.
But as she strained to make sense of the slowly returning familiar shapes before her, the darkness about her began to collect itself, the air moved in ever-tightening elliptical coils around her, gathering like candyfloss. Pearl was rooted upright, as a human form appeared at the end of her bed, resting its hands on its knees and tilting its head to one side. It had a familiarity, it seemed to be everyone she knew, everyone she had ever known. A soft ochre light appeared around the shape.
Pearl could not speak, nor scream, yet something about her new companion exuded calm. It was not how she expected to feel.
“Hello Pearl. Don’t be afraid. Easy for me to say, I know but I would rather like to explain myself, if you don’t mind’ it said, in a quilted whisper, a warmth in its voice. ‘I’m the darkness all about you.”
Pearl was unsure, but calm.
“Do you always sit at the end of my bed when I’m sleeping?”
“Oh, no. I’m here for everyone. But I look after you every night, I’m all around you, looking out for you, helping you sleep. When you worry about me, I’m sad. But there is nothing I can do. I know you’re looking forward to seeing my friend, Dawn, and would rather I left.”
“She’s real too? Is she really your friend?”
“She’s my only friend, but we pass by one another slowly, wishing we could be together our hands slip through one another’s. We are the only ones who understand each other. But we never can be.”
There was a moment of stillness, as they both considered the impossibility.
“I’m not scared of Dawn” Pearl reassured herself.
“Ah but there are many who love the darkness of the night and fear the Dawn. A new day for them is terrifying. It means facing things or others they would rather avoid. It can mean making decisions they would rather not face. Sometimes it’s simply the heaviness in their own heart.”
“I can’t imagine being scared of the daylight. But I know people who are sad all of the time. That must be what’s happening. They never say so.”
“It’s rare that people do. It’s easy to say you are afraid of the dark, but it’s hard to admit you are afraid of the light.”
“But what if you and Dawn could be together? Then no-one would need to be afraid.”
“We are different, Dawn and I, and there is nothing we can do about it. We cannot change ourselves, like you can. And we’ve had much longer to try. But we are both here for everyone.”
“If you’re here for me, why am I scared of you?”
“Things that worry you feel bigger in the darkness, much bigger than you. You can’t do anything about them, you have to wait. It can seem like there is only you in the world, that you are the only one awake. So, people think of darkness as bad, and light as good. But there cannot be one without the other.”
Pearl looked puzzled.
“So, Dawn wouldn’t be here without you, and you wouldn’t be here without Dawn. Yet you can’t be together?”
“Exactly. We give each other meaning. You have to have us both.”
“So – you make it possible for me to love the Dawn?”
“Yes indeed. You just need to think of us both, looking out for you, but never able to do so together. We would want nothing more, but we can never do so. So, it helps us to deal with that, if we know you care for us both equally.’
“I will - err, I do. “
“Now, I have to go back to the way I appear to everyone, but I can only do that when I know you’re not scared of me. It’s been a white night for many while I’ve been here with you, and I can’t have them being anxious, can I?”
Pearl nodded and settled.
With that the form dissolved, unfurling into an undulating dream.
Pearl awoke to fractal shards splayed through her blinds. It was much later than usual. She hadn’t noticed the breaking of day, as she often did.
It was New Year’s Day. Pearl was happy. Something had changed.


What still remains - Day 31 (New Year's Eve)

Day 31 (Sunday 31st December, New Year's Eve 2017)
31 December is known as Hogmanay in Scotland and is a night of celebrations
that have become famous around the world. Many view Hogmanay as a bigger
party than Christmas. It is thought that the word originates from the French
"hoginane" meaning gala day and was first used in 1561 on the return of Mary
Queen of Scots to Scotland. At that time, in Normandy, presents given at
Hogmanay were "hoguinetes'. An alternative derivation of the word is the
Scandinavian "hoggo-nott" meaning yule. A tradition linked to Hogmanay is
"first footing" - the first guest to cross your threshold after midnight - it should
be a tall, dark stranger (to Scots many years ago the surprise arrival of a blond
often signified a dangerous Viking trying to cause harm). A first footer should
bring gifts of coal (for heat), rich fruit cake known as Black Bun (for food for
the year), salt (a symbol of friendship), and whisky (for good cheer and hospitality).
It's the last day of the year. Happy Hogmanay! I have had a memorable year - full of precious moments shared with loved ones, new colleagues and friends coming to help me do things I need and want to do, some recognition (which is much appreciated) and visits to amazing places and events. I know that I am fortunate. I hope that you have been too.

The start of a New Year is seldom dark and dull and the year ahead does not have to be dark either - as David D'Souza points out in his post below. 

I am fortunate to have had David as a colleague and to have him as a friend. He is a true polymath, with a thirst for learning and a passion for positive innovation (especially technology - his latest fascination is cryptocurrencies). David is globally recognised as a thought-leader who is not afraid to challenge the status quo. You can get a taste of his views if you follow him on Twitter (his handle is @dds180). He is a devoted husband and father and a loyal friend (although, as Head of Engagement for the CIPD, a job that takes him around the globe, he is so busy that he is seldom able to spend the time he and others would like have with him just to catch up and connect). I strongly recommend that you read his blogs, he writes his own under banner on 101 Half Connected Things and also posts pieces often on behalf of the CIPD (the UK-based professional body for HR and Leading and Development professionals).

Because of the personal nature of this post I have not added any pictures - the photograph was provided by David.

**********************
"In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev'ry glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains"
The Boxer, Simon and Garfunkel, 1969
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There are some years that are better than others. There are some years that are definitely worse. The relatively arbitrary unit of the year gives us a chance to reflect and renew. Why January 1st? It doesn't really matter.  Our lives are made up of these little units. They actually seem big units when we are young and then they seem to rush by, barely allowing us time to process their impact.
I remember listening to The Boxer by Simon And Garfunkel being played live on an acoustic guitar in a vineyard in South Africa. My late mother was drunk. She would have said she was tipsy. She was certainly tipsy enough to be drunk... She was conducting a crowd of strangers in making the distinctive noise heard in the latter parts of the song. Everybody was grinning.
Wikipedia describes the creation of that distinctive noise in the original recording thus
"The iconic crashing sound in the refrain was recorded by setting up a drum kit in front of an elevator shaft, which provided the proper reverb"
That seems a very elaborate set up when all you had to do to create that noise was give my mum a bottle and a half of white wine and some sunshine.
I can't listen to that song now without it being bittersweet. Google Photos threw up photos from that day recently as part of its 'do you remember this happened on this day?' type function. A function that can still catch me unawares, but that I don't turn off. 
https://ddsouzadotcom.files.wordpress.com/2017/12/sdc117734058841030802046835.jpg
I recall my mother on that day smiling. Grinning.  All Google can offer me is this photo of her with her 'if you take a photo of me you'll be in trouble' face. I was also very familiar with that. 
Anyway, I digress...

The point is that the memory both hurts and cheers. That will be true of so many memories for people of this year. It's been a tough one for many. 
We are shaped by our past and our experiences, but also by those experiences yet to come. The past does not determine the future unless you let it.  And we have control over the here and now and how we react. 
As people get set to write their resolutions for the New Year they will focus on diets and budgets or spending time with others. 

Here is what I hope you resolve. 
Let it be a genuinely New Year. Let it be unencumbered by the weight of past memories. Let it be a new day and a welcome dawn. Take with you into the next year the things you want and need and none of the things that hold you back. Shape the future, rather than being anchored in the past. Have the year you want. And if it doesn't turn out that way, well, there's normally another one in a few months. 

It's a whole new arbitrary unit to make the most of. That's a beautiful creation, one of our best inventions.